A pleasant Friday to you all, amazing people and to this wonderful coffee community!
Life throws curveballs, doesn’t it? One minute you’re walking your beloved German Shepherd, Boomer, along the beach, the next… well, the next is a different story entirely. It’s been over a week since I last wrote here on Hive, a week filled with more tears than I care to count. Boomer’s passing has left a hole in my heart, a silence in our home, and a serious slump in my motivation. Running our little rental business feels like climbing a mountain in flip-flops, and even posting here feels like a monumental effort. But life, even in its grief-stricken moments, keeps moving.
Boomer was more than just our dog; he was our beach buddy, our morning alarm clock, and a furry participant in our daily routine. The daily walks to the beach, morning and evening, were our rituals, our time together. Now, those walks feel…empty. The silence is deafening.
A few days after saying goodbye to Boomer, I found myself needing a change of pace, a small step forward. We had no guests at our kubo cabins that day, so my husband and I decided to do what we always did with Boomer—take a walk on the beach. This time, though, our destination was the German Bistro, a little slice of heaven right by the water that Boomer and I passed by every day.
I’ve written about the German Bistro before; it’s a place that holds a special place in my heart. The palm trees swaying gently in the breeze, the breathtaking beachfront view, the overall peaceful and serene vibe – it's a place that always calms my soul. That morning, the bistro had a magical quality. We were the only customers, the quiet only broken by the gentle lapping of waves against the shore. The tranquility was almost palpable; it was exactly what my soul needed.
This time, though, I wanted to focus on something I hadn’t written about before: their coffee. We ordered brewed coffee – two cups of pure, unadulterated bliss. My husband also ordered a Filipino breakfast—the classic combo of fried rice, longganisa (Filipino sausage), and a sunny-side-up egg (longsilog). For me, it was just two boiled eggs. I have no idea why, but that morning, all I craved was the comforting warmth of their coffee. And it was the perfect choice.
Their coffee at the German Bistro is really good. Seriously, it's not just any coffee; it's really smooth and rich, and it smells amazing. You know that kind of smell that just makes you feel relaxed? That's what it's like. The first sip is so smooth, and the flavor is really good – strong but not bitter, you know? It's the kind of coffee that warms you up, inside and out. It's really comforting. And the best thing? If you get breakfast, you can have as much coffee as you want! That's awesome. It was perfect for that morning; I just needed to sit and think, and the coffee helped. I could sip it slowly and relax, or drink it quickly if I needed a little boost. It was just what I needed that day.
Over those warm cups of coffee, my husband and I just started talking about Boomer. It wasn't planned; it just kind of happened. We started sharing memories – funny things he did, sweet moments we shared, little things that made us smile even though we were sad. There were laughs, definitely, but also tears. It wasn't a sad crying thing, more like a remembering-him-and-missing-him kind of crying. We talked about how much we loved him, how hard we tried to take care of him, and how much we did our best for him. We both agreed that we did everything we could. But sometimes, even when you do everything right, it's still time for them to go. It's just one of those things. It's hard to accept, but it's true. We talked about how he's probably chasing kitties and sleeping in sunbeams somewhere, maybe even playing with other dogs. Thinking about that helped a bit.
The view, familiar yet different without Boomer by my side, was breathtaking. The same waves that Boomer would bark at, the same sand we walked on countless times, were still there. It was a reminder that life, even in its sorrow, continues. The beauty of the beach, the warmth of the coffee, the comforting presence of my husband – these things helped me find a small measure of peace.
Anyway, I am already getting emotional lol sorry about that. The total bill was 689 Philippine Pesos – a small price to pay for a moment of solace, a good coffee date with my husband, and a reminder of the simple joys in life. The brewed coffee itself was 69 pesos each, a bargain for such a delightful brew.
The German Bistro is a mere two-minute walk from our kubo cabin rentals. Its accessibility makes it the perfect spot for a quick escape, a moment of quiet contemplation, or a simple coffee date with my husband. It's a place that holds so many memories, both happy and sad, and it's comforting to know it's always there, a constant in this ever-changing world. This coffee date wasn't just about the coffee or the view, though. It was about finding a way to move forward, to honor Boomer's memory, and to appreciate the simple moments of peace and connection amidst the grief. It was a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there is still beauty to be found, comfort to be shared, and strength to be discovered.
The walk, the coffee, the conversation—they were small acts of self-care, small steps toward acceptance. And while the pain of losing Boomer is still very real, the memory of that peaceful morning at the German Bistro, the warmth of the coffee, and the love shared with my husband, serves as a beacon of hope, a gentle reminder that even in the face of loss, life continues, and beauty can still be found in the simplest of things. It’s a journey, not a destination, and I’m taking it one step, one cup of coffee, one beach walk at a time.
Thank you everyone and until our next coffee (and maybe a few dog stories) adventure! Cheers!
Published:
April 11, 2025 1:30 p.m. PST
In between the farm and the beach
Philippines
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